


Jabba, Dissected:)

by calime



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Ficlet, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-04-17
Updated: 2006-04-17
Packaged: 2017-10-18 12:39:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/188975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/calime/pseuds/calime
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written as a part of a drabble meme for Tryfanstone, who asked, "But, er, I've always wanted to know a bit more about Jabba the Hut...?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jabba, Dissected:)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Jay Tryfanstone (tryfanstone)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tryfanstone/gifts).



> The last one draws heavily on the books, not the movies.

Snippet # 1

The big room is dark and quiet, only light coming from a tiny holo-vid of a slim Twi’lek female twirling seductively in an intricate dance. An enormous bulk shifts in the darkness, the flickering of the vid reflected in a pair of bulbous eyes. A rubbery tongue sneaks out of the corner of a slit-like mouth as Jabba the Hutt contemplates a potential new purchase.

Jabba rumbles deep in his chest. He knows that most of his fellow hutts consider his obsession with dancing girls – humanoid dancing girls, at that – a major weakness. A weakness in a hutt is a shameful thing, an opening for another to exploit. But Jabba knows better, and therefore does nothing to quell the whisperings behind his back.

Let his enemies think his habit of aquiring and killing those pets a weakness, let it lull them into a false sense of security. Let them fail to notice the power Jabba is slowly aquiring, his relentless ability for squeezing profit out of any venture, his ever-spreading influence that will one day devour them.

For Jabba believes himself in control, not the other way around. True, he never fails to admire the sleek beauty of his new pet, but even from the first, the anticipatory flutter is inside him, hovering, waiting... Waiting for the day when he finds himself looking at the current slave with affection, because that is the day when the rancor will be fed a treat. Affection is an emotion that clouds the brain and therefore stands in the way of profit. It is a weakness and therefore not to be allowed. And what of it if he enjoys the thrill of power coursing through him, when he flips the switch and hears her scream when her limbs scramble uselessly for a purchase? What of it if he savours the brief moment of terror washing over the dancer’s face when the floor gives under her feet? How can an ultimate control over another being – admittedly inferior, but still – be a weakness?

Jabba spares another glance at the holo-vid. He can order the purchase tomorrow.

Snippet # 2

Jabba knew that most other hutts considered other sentient species too inferior to be worthy of notice. At most, they were considered clever enough to serve the majesty of hutts. Jabba, on the other hand, was not so complacently secure in the hutt superiority. He thought it significant that most other species in the Universe were humanoid.

Humanoids intrigued and attracted, aggrieved and repulsed him simultaneously. They were adaptable, mobile and versatile. They were, by and large, intelligent. Also, they could be as admirably ruthless as any hutt. And they were everywhere, like vermin. Deep down, Jabba feared humanoids as much as he was drawn to them. And what Jabba feared, he made use of ... and ultimately destroyed.

Snippet # 3

Jabba sometimes had disturbing dreams. They’d first appeared in the aftermath of Aunt Jiliac’s death and could be easily contributed to the additional workload Jabba carried in managing the clan business. Jabba, in his private thoughts, blamed them on Durga, though.

The dreams were always the same. There was this disgusting young mindless grub of a huttling wriggling on the floor, just like after the fight, only Jiliac’s great corpse was nowhere in sight. And somehow, Jabba knew the huttling was not Jiliac’s, but his. He’d somehow become the very thing he despised, he’d given birth to the thing, and now, unless he could smother the vermin before anyone became aware of its existance, he was going to degenerate into the same cooing, mothering, brainless shade of an once-brilliant hutt – just like his Aunt had. And from behind the shadows, all of the Nal Hutta was laughing at him.

In blind panic, he hurried to roll over the little huttling, smothering it, like the first one. So easy ... but when he’d slowly turned his heavy sluglike body around, somehow the horrible little creature was still alive, still wriggling towards him, making those hungry slurping noises...

He always woke at that point, frozen in fright, heart pounding. His personal physician might blame stress, and overwork, but Jabba knew better. The blame lied solely on Durga. Durga, who had challenged and killed Jiliac. Durga, who had not had the decency to stay and finish the little vermin. It was all Durga’s fault.


End file.
